


Breathe

by danithemani



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Anal Sex, Gay Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 22:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17232335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danithemani/pseuds/danithemani
Summary: Sa'rah suprises Dom'nir with a visit from an old friend, and it turns out well for everyone.(Well, Sa'rah sits there grumpy the whole time, but she gets to glare at Argis after.)





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LemurMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LemurMonster/gifts).



> A commission written for my lovely friend. I couldn't pass up the chance to include Argis in a story, and her characters Sa'rah and Dom'nir are beautifully made. I hope to get a chance to write again with them soon!

“Good to see you again, old friend,” Argis smiled. 

Dom’nir smiled back, lowering his gaze to look the Nord in the eye. He was about a head shorter than him, large and full-framed. He kept his muscular figure, the same friendly smile. The only thing had changed were the fine lines that crinkled around his warm eyes. Nords aged in such beautiful ways.

He was still rugged and handsome, the scar across his eye only adding to his charm. His long blond hair hung loosely into thick strands that danced across his shoulders. It brought back old feelings, of being in the army, the sweat and blood and dirt, raising swords with Tamriel’s finest. It had been at least a decade since he had seen his friend. How Sa’rah had managed to find him, Dom’nir would probably never know. He often found it better not to ask.

“It’s been years, Argis.”

The Khajit held out his hand and Argis shook it firmly. It was just and warm and friendly as it was before, but with the edge he had almost forgotten from a hardened warrior. When Sa’rah had given Dom’nir the proposition, a part of him felt it was a test, but he knew she didn't play those kinds of games. They had promised Secunda, and he would never break an oath under Her to his little moonflower. Sa'rah said their promise would not be broken, he had been faithful, and this was a gift. 

She insisted, in her own way, and so they set off for a tavern late at night, and he followed her footsteps and feverish glances as they traveled. She told the truth, it seemed.

“Don’t be so formal, come here!”

Argis pulled him in for a hug, their armor clanking loudly in the quiet tavern. The man seemed to have done well for himself, in polished steel plate armor and fresh war paint. He looked over at his mate who sat quietly in the corner, brooding. She said nothing and had no teeth barred. Her claws were out, scraping against the cheap metal that held her mead. Mead, which she had no taste for, but drank anyway, ears back and displeased.

“Let me tell you, have things changed since you left-”

The Khajiit tried to listen, he did. He wanted to hear about his life as a Housecarl, his strange new Thane, what he thought of this damnable war and how that old war injury had been acting up in this especially cold and humid winter. The Bulwark prattled on, about dragons and Markarth and the damnable Forsworn, but Dom’nir had more pressing matters that begged of urgency.  Matters that involved pinning the Nord to the bed and pulling moans from his throat. Images raced in his mind, imagined shadows left on the outside of tents. These thoughts were not new. Dom’nir had always had a fascination with the native people of this land. Nords were so pretty - smooth and soft and a foreign shade of pink. And of course, growing up in this land of Skyrim he had taken a few to bed himself. But things were different now. He could never ask that of Sa'rah. His loyalties were with her and in the desires of her heart. If however, she were to ask that of him, he couldn’t refuse. And ask she did.

“You have been so good to me, Dom'nir. Never once have I worried about infidelity, or even a wandering eye. You're with me in battle and in heart. It might be nice to see you behind another, for a change.”

Dom'nir had never expected that thoughtful gesture, especially from his mate of so few words. As mischievous and unpredictable as his moonflower was, he thought her much too territorial to even think about it. She had even found the man for him to play with, a Nord who snuck away from his duties as Housecarl to meet them in the Silver-Blood Inn. A man that Dom'nir had known from years ago when they served together in the Imperial Army.

“But eh- why waste time talking? You have better ideas than that I’m sure.”

Dom’nir grinned, though he tried to hide it. He didn't want the man to think he was in uninterested in his new life or their old friendship. But they could catch up later, assuming the man's Thane allowed it. For Dom'nir, it had been years since he had felt the skin of another man against his fur. He didn't want to wait much longer, and he wanted to make the encounter last.

He saw Sa’rah stand and slink to the counter, dropping a small purse of coins on the counter. The barkeeper nodded and quickly poured the gold on the wood, placing it in stacks and moving his lips silently. Dom'nir chuckled. Sa’rah had no time to barter, she gave the price she saw fit and would pay it exactly, and not a septim more or less. By the look on the old man’s face, it was a few more coins than he had expected. She stood by the doorway, tail flicking back and forth impatiently. Argis was beginning to look nervous, but like all Nords, he laughed it off.

“Remarkable little wife you have there, Dom. Said she would use me like a toothpick if she saw my hand wander somewhere she didn’t like. By Shor’s bones, that look in her eyes, I believe her.”

The two men walked close, close enough to garner whispers from the drunks by the fire. Two men laying together in Skyrim was not out of the norm and was even unofficially endorsed by the Imperial Army. Something about loyalty in battle. Not like the lieutenants could keep it from happening anyway; when men were far away from home, they always find a way to keep warm. Of course, Dom'nir paid the whispers no mind. He never did. Being a Khajiit brings you attention when you’re allowed in at all, and a mate like his always brought more than he might like. He was pleasantly surprised however, that these whispers happened to be right. 

“I wish I could tell you her bark was worse than her bite, but I won’t lie. Just follow my lead.”

The Nord followed Dom’nir into the room, barely able to contain his eagerness. Argis noted that his old friend had certainly done well for himself. Nordic armor was not easy to come by and it flattered the Khajiit, drawing the eye up to his broad shoulders. 

“When have I ever done anything but?”

Dom’nir rolled his eyes and closed the door behind Argis. Sa’rah had already made herself at home in the furs that covered the rope bed. She was not going to participate, but it was clear she was the one in control.

“Go ahead, killer,” Sa’rah purred, leaning back against the headboard, “I want to see you take him.”

Her watchful eyes stole into his body. She yearned for this too, and he was never one to keep Sa'rah from what she wanted it if he could help it. Before his mind was torn between the two desires - the one of his own and the one of his mate’s. Now that he knew they were truly one and the same, he didn't have to worry. Sa’rah never said anything she didn’t mean, and if she was dissatisfied, she would let her mate know.

“I’m not one to argue,” Argis smiled, working quickly at the straps on his greaves.

Dom'nir placed his attention back on Argis. Eager as ever. The Nord was strong, with muscles that were carved of years of use and scars that told of his honor in battle. He watched him as he undressed, the steel plate armor revealing his bare chest and even more scars underneath. He wanted to touch every one, trace them with his claws and commit them back to memory. The warrior looked just as sure now as he did years ago when they served alongside each other in the Legion. Dom’nir had changed quite a bit since his service, a happy marriage can add a carriage wheel around the middle, and Sa’rah preferred it that way. Argis certainly didn't seem to mind, either.

Dom’nir leaned forward, planting a gentle kiss on Argis’ neck as he slid the man’s loincloth of with a finger.

“Don’t rush yourself, Argis. Let me admire you for a minute.”

He smiled and let himself fall back on the bed, stopping to look at Sa’rah who was still curled around the blankets. His friend was retired now, his vision making him unable to serve, but he recognized the passion brewing in his eyes. It wasn’t the first time the pair would lay together, but it would be the first time with an audience. She nodded, and Argis felt warm fur brush against his thighs.

“Mind if I get a taste before moving onto the main event?”

“As long as you promise to mind the fangs.”

Dom’nir chuckled and sank lower, hovering over the man on the bed. He ran his fingers across pale flesh before settling his broad hand on Argis’ shaft. He flicked his eyes up to meet the Nord's before taking a tentative lick. It had been years since he had laid with another man. He wanted to take his time. Argis pulsed under Dom'nir's fingertips and the Khajiit allowed himself to take the crown in his mouth.

“Like that, Argis?” Dom’nir purred. 

“You know I do, Dom.”

He was worried that the man's familiarity would prickle his mate’s enthusiasm. Sa'rah said nothing, only watched feverishly as her tail flicked and twitched. She would need to be calmed when this was over, she would tell Dom'nir to claim her, perhaps more than once. But she was not angry, and she trusted her mate.

Dom'nir watched the man's face flush red, and before he knew it, he was matching the rhythm of his mouth to Argis’ breathing. He trailed a light tongue over the sides and ended each movement with gentle suction, enough to tease and force the man to focus on the sensation and not just the act itself. He enjoyed watching the man moan under him, make quiet noises that begged for more attention.

“Stop, you’re too good at this-”

The Khajiit smiled around the dick in his mouth and slowly slid back off. Sa'rah had warned him that Argis was to be careful. He was glad the man wasn't testing the waters.

“If you insist. I'll make sure you get what you want, sweetling. If you'll-”

Before Dom'nir could finish his sentence, Argis shuffled to his hands and knees and raised his hips.

“Yes. That'll do." 

Dom'nir chuckled, not at the man's expense but because he understood his enthusiasm.

The Khajiit ran his hands over the man’s pale back, feeling him shiver under his touch. Keeping one steady on the man's hip, his other hand shuffled through the bag Sa'rah had thrown casually on the bed beside her.

“This is what you are looking for."

She handed him a green bottle, some kind of stamina potion by the look of it. He could tell it was one of her creations. Sa'rah had put more planning into this encounter than he realized.

“Thank you, moonflower.”

She popped the cork with her teeth and handed it to him. He managed to tilt some of the liquid into his hand. Stamina potions were especially thick, and he had begun to wonder if that was their true intention after all and perhaps his mate had mastered it. Alchemy had never been his strong suit, as powder tends to stick to the paws, but as usual, Sa’rah had gotten the job done. Dom’nir slicked his fingers with green liquid and pressed it against Argis’ skin tentatively. When Argis pushed his hips back against his hands, Dom’nir felt a rush wash over him.

“Watch those claws, eh?” Argis laughed, turning his head back to face the Khajiit.

His nervousness was melting away quickly. He added another and he felt Argis loosen around his fingers; the slick was working. Dom’nir’s eyes flicked back up to his mate’s. The light flashed in her eyes, reflecting the sparkling blue that shone so brightly on its own.

“Only because you asked so nicely, sweetling,” Dom’nir teased back.

Dom'nir finally stepped out of his own greaves, careful to continue the safe consistent motion with his fingers. He remembered how the Nord enjoyed the feeling of steel against his back, but he would be careful not to let it cut into his skin. He let his own length press against the back of the man's leg, drawing an easy moan. 

“Are you ready, Argis?" 

"I was ready half an hour ago.”

The Khajiit took a breath and guided himself to the man's entrance. He was tight, and as he expected, he had to take extra precaution to thumb the man open. Any moans that escaped the Nord's lips were to be pleasant and not painful. Dom'nir was careful with his friend.

“Feels great, Dom. Stendarr's mercy, don't stop.”

He felt himself slide inside Argis, a begging, welcoming heat. Dom'nir saw the muscles in the warrior’s back arch upwards, pleading for contact. His hands moved to the paler man's hips and he let his fingers wander. Argis’ skin was impossibly soft, and the flush of sex was already beginning to rise. He had missed that, being able to see the heat on a man's skin. Fur was soft, warm to touch, but to see actions played out on a canvas was another thing entirely.

Argis shivered as he felt the cold touch of steel against his back. Dom’nir rocked his hips forward, slowly at first. He made small grinding motions with light pressure, in part because not quite convinced his friend was as ready as he insisted, and also because he wanted to drive him to the brink of madness before he felt it wash away under his fur. The Nord groaned and bucked his hips back playfully. Dom’nir took his time, slowly pressing his hips flush against the other man’s. He shivered at a delicious groan he drew from Argis. He brushed past a particularly sensitive spot that made him tighten around the Khajiit, causing Dom to run his hands up the man's chest.

“Dom, please,” Argis moaned, “don't go so slow.”

The Nord was already panting, his body begging Argis to drive him flailing into the mattress. But this was not what this night was for. He was going to make it last.

“Be patient, Argis. We’ll get there.”

Finally, Dom'nir bottomed out and gave a gentle squeeze to the man's flank to let him know he was going to start moving again, this time more deliberately and with some speed. He let his body push and pull him, giving the appearance of an easy motion to tease more groans out of the man beneath him.

“Bigger than I remember, I think.”

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder, Argis." 

His old friend chuckled but was cut off as Dom'nir increased the pressure again. He felt the tightness in his belly. Admittedly, Dom'nir was close, but he had every intention of drawing this out. Not at the expense of the Nord's pleasure, of course.

“Want a little help, sweetling?" 

He watched Argis’ blond hair fall around his shoulders, and then onto the bed before him as he laid his head down. The man moaned a response, and Dom’nir slipped a hand between his thighs, tracing an unsharpened claw across pink stretch marks. He remembered seeing those before, across his muscular legs that rippled when he walked, thighs splayed over their shared bunk years ago.

“Gonna have to use those words, Argis."

His grip was a bit more insistent on the man's hip, firm but not tight.

“By the gods, yes!”

Sa'rah's fur bristled when the man raised his voice and she sat up. He heard her claws scrape against the wooden headboard. She didn't like his friend's tone, but Dom'nir knew better. It was just excitement, nothing else.

“Relax, Argis. You're going to give yourself Witbane.”

The Khajiit laughed, adding a gentle pat to his leg before he grabbed Argis’ length in his hand. He didn't want the man to think it was an insult, but he didn't want Sa'rah to mistake it as a show of dominance, either.

Argis let out another moan, different from the last, that let Dom'nir know he was close. The Nord bucked forward, encouraging his partner to move faster. Dom'nir obliged, steadily, but not at the pace the man below him desired. With every stroke, the Khajiit felt Argis pulse in his grip and around his own body. It wasn't long until the Nord grunted and finished fast and heavy, sinking into the makeshift mattress and letting his hips rise. He wanted to feel every inch of Dom'nir as he came. Argis needed that final thrust to push him over the edge and spill into soft hands.

“Want me to keep going?”

Argis moaned, a hint of a laugh escaping his lips. Dom'nir knew it was an obvious question, but it was one he had to ask.

“Until I feel you, Dom.”

That familiar sensation had dropped to his stomach again, and the man's insistence only spurred him closer. He lowered his hips and thrust deeper. Dom'nir's hand was still wet from Argis’ efforts, and he pressed it into the bed to lean over the man properly. He was careful not to let the edges of the metal cut into his skin but allowed the weight of the steel to add to the sensation. A deep-seated thrust and the Khajiit's breath hitched, his muscles relaxing as he spilled into the Nord.

“Argis," Dom'nir sighed, holding back his claws from the man's hip.

Wet heat splashed inside the Nord and another delicious groan left the man's throat. He held his hips tightly, keeping Argis in place. Dom'nir allowed his breathing to settle and ran his hand over his old friend's back before sitting back on his knees.

Sa'rah nodded, her jaw finally relaxed and handed her mate a cloth. He withdrew slowly and cleaned his partner up before flipping the rag over to wipe his own hand. Argis was still breathing heavily, and Dom'nir again took a chance to admire the man in front of him. There was something special about the shoulders of a man who wielded a sword and shield, something lithe yet powerful.

“Don't run off. Stay here, at least for the night."

Argis stretched his back out again, and Dom'nir smiled at the ripple of muscles and pink-toned skin. Something special indeed.

“Are you sure the little wife won't mind?”

Dom'nir looked back to Sa'rah. Her ears were flicked back, angry but accepting. She knew her mate would need the companionship after this, but that didn't mean she had to be happy about it. 

"If it pleases you, Dom'nir. But the Nord needs to watch his paws.”

Argis slowly crawled off the bed and slipped back into the simple tunic he had worn under his armor. He placed his loincloth neatly in a chair alongside his armor, ready for an easy getaway in the morning. He never lost his skills as a solider. Dom'nir began to work on the top half of his armor, Sa'rah working on the straps to free him of it quickly. He felt a sharp bite into his muscle and claws on his back. The glimpse of pain reminded him that he was hers, and he smiled. He could never forget his moonflower. Together they placed his armor on the floor and he laid on his back, Sa'rah quickly taking her place on his belly. It embarrassed the Khajiit, who was worried his friend would be unhappy with his new figure, but Argis paid no mind. He was still busy straightening his belongings, making sure he would be ready to leave and not be late getting home to his Thane.

“Is this my side of the bed, Dom?"

Dom'nir grinned and flicked his head to the side, inviting the Nord to snuggle against his back. He accepted it, and hopped into the bed beside him, making the rope bed bounce. The Khajiit wanted to hold him, but he knew Sa'rah's limits. If he was facing her, her claws and teeth would be easier to contain. It was for Argis’ own good, and he secretly wanted to feel the strong embrace of broad shoulders against his own back again.

“You'll have to visit me in Markarth sometime, Dom. With your mate, of course.”

"We'll see when we can make a trip up there. But I can't make you any promises.”

The two men quickly fell asleep, Argis nuzzled into Dom'nir's back and Sa'rah peering quietly over the other Khajiit's shoulder.

The last thing Argis saw as he fell asleep were two glowing eyes, one blue and green, peering over Dom'nir's shoulder. 


End file.
